Lessons Learned'
by headcanonsandmore
Summary: One morning, Ron discovers that maybe having so many older brothers isn't so bad, especially if your friends are in-need of some brotherly support due to absent fathers. (Warning: contains allusions to child abuse, child neglect, domestic abuse and domestic violence)


Ron Weasley blearily opened the curtains around his bed. It was unusual for him to wake up this early, but the dream he'd been experiencing had rudely ended his usual deep sleep. All Ron could remember was the strong smell of books, and a lot of bushy hair. It was probably nothing, but he couldn't shake the unsettled feeling that the memory was creating in his stomach.

Rubbing his ears wearily, the youngest Weasley boy climbed out of bed, before pulling on his dressing gown (maroon, as virtually everything he wore was, despite it being his least favourite colour). Tentative sunlight was streaming in through the window nearby, illuminating the boys dormitory. Ron could hear the sounds of his dorm-mates quietly snoring as they slept.

Taking care not to wake any of them (Seamus was prone to a bad temper if disturbed early), Ron tiptoed towards the bathroom, and closed the door behind him.

Turning, he discovered that he wasn't the first up. Harry was stood in front of one of the sinks, brushing his teeth and squinting irritably at himself in the mirror. He was wearing an old pair of Ron's pyjamas, which barely fitted him. Ron had originally given them to Harry on the first night of first year, after he had discovered that Harry had never owned a pair in his life. The thin, bespectacled boy had originally climbed into bed wearing his t-shirt and jeans, before Ron had thrown a pair of pyjamas at him. Harry had blinked, confused, at his redheaded friend, but hadn't objected, instead walking over into the bathroom to change.

During their first few years at Hogwarts, Harry had never been comfortable changing in front of the other boys. Ron had initially assumed it was due to Harry never having friends before, but helping Harry change in the hospital wing in second year had thrown that assumption out the window.

Ron's blood ran cold at the memory, and he pulled himself back into the present.

'H-hey, mate,' he said, trying to shake that horrifying thought out of his head as he went to stand at the sink next to Harry. 'You're up early.'

Harry shrugged. He spat out his toothpaste into the sink, and rubbed his chin with his hand.

'I've got some weird hairs growing on my face.'

Ron squinted. Sure enough, there were a couple of short, dark hairs poking out of the skin.

'Oh, yeah. Are you gonna use the charm on them?'

Harry gave Ron a confused look.

'Charm?'

Ron's heart sank slightly. He'd spoken without thinking again.

'The… the shaving charm. Sorry, mate, I should have remembered you didn't grow up with- I mean, you probably got taught the muggle way, right?'

Harry looked down at the sink, not quite meeting Ron's eyes.

'Harry, I'm… I'm so sorry!' Ron exclaimed, now panicking. 'That was rude of me! I shouldn't have⸺'

'I… I don't know the muggle way, either.'

There was a silence.

'Did… didn't your uncle ever…?'

Harry shook his head.

Ron's stomach seemed to sink several inches. They never really talked much about Harry's relatives. Ron knew the Dursleys did not like Harry; the bars on Harry's windows had crystallised that.

Well, Ron might not have much in the world. But -for all his wealth- Harry had far less. Harry might have been "the boy who lived", but he was also a lonely kid with no loving family to call his own.

And suddenly, Ron knew what he needed to do. He might not have been able to help Harry's situation with the Dursleys, but he could at least do this for his best friend.

'Right, then. I'm showing you how to do it.'

'What? Ron, you really don't have to⸺'

'Harry, _please_.'

Harry locked eyes with Ron, and his will seemed to crumble.

'Alright, then.'

Ron pulled his wand out of his dressing gown pocket, and tentatively raised it upwards.

'It's just a little charm. Takes off the hairs. Percy showed me.'

'O-okay.'

'It doesn't hurt. Watch.'

Ron pointed the wand at his own chin.

'_Cultellus_.'

Ron moved his wand, so that it looked like a knife cutting through a loaf of bread.

The hairs on his chin dropped off his skin, as if neatly cut by a razor.

'You don't need to use polish or anything for it. But afterwards you need to use this charm to reverse the cutting.'

Ron made a downward figure-of-eight with his wand.

'_Novis_.'

'Cool.' Harry breathed.

'It doesn't take much practice. But you need to be careful the first few times; you don't want to take off too much.'

Harry nodded.

'Can… can you do it for me? Just… just the first time.'

Ron blinked.

'Y-yeah. Sure, mate.'

'Thanks. I'm… I'm sorry to being such a burden.'

'You're not a burden, Harry. You know that, right?'

Harry's cheeks went a little pink.

'Thanks. Can… can you…'

'O-oh, yeah!' Ron stammered, stepping a little closer to Harry. 'Just hold still, 'kay, mate?'

Harry 'Cultellus.' nodded.

'_Cultellus_.'

'Ow!'

Harry clutched at his jawline, where a small cut had opened up. Blood begin to appear.

'Merlin!' Ron cursed, his eyes widening in horror. 'I'm sorry, mate! Let me just

Ron immediately grabbed some tissue paper from nearby, and began dabbing at Harry's jawline with it.

'Ron ⸺stop it⸺ it's fine⸺ you don't have to⸺'

'Yes, I bloody well do, Harry!' Ron insisted. 'I'm the one who caused you to get hurt; I should have shown you how to do it more carefully⸺'

'It's my own fault, Ron!'

'No, it isn't! Why do you always say that? None of this is your fault, mate! Do you understand that? _None of this is your fault_!'

Harry stared up at Ron.

'T-thanks, mate.' The bespectacled boy mumbled, as he broke eye contact and looked down at his feet.

The two of them rarely talked about what had gone on during Harry's childhood. Ron knew it was a very difficult subject for Harry, and knew that –when it came to talking about feelings- he himself wasn't very good. Way back in first year, he'd decided that if he couldn't talk to Harry about this stuff, then he could at least show Harry the support and love that had been missing from his life up to that point. Screw the Dursleys, Ron would be Harry's family now.

'No… no problem.'

The door creaked open, and Neville entered. The blonde boy was wearing a pair of fluffy slippers on his feet.

'Morning.'

'M-morning.' Neville mumbled. His forehead creased up, as if he was working up the courage to speak. 'Er… Ron…'

'Yeah?'

'I couldn't help overhearing. Do you… know how to shave?'

'Well… yeah.'

Neville bit his lip, looking nervous.

'Can… can you…?'

Ron's eyes widened in understanding. Neville didn't know how to shave the magical way either. Come to think about it, Ron's parents had never really told him why Neville had been raised by his grandma. Like a lot of things that had happened in the first war, it was never really talked about. The memories were just too painful.

Ron couldn't very well ask Neville why his dad had never taught him, but he could certainly help him out.

'Y-yeah, sure, mate.'

Looking immensely grateful, Neville approached. The shorter boy stood next to Ron, and Ron carefully began to trim the small amount of light-blonde hair that was dotted across Neville's jawline.

However, before Ron could finish, the door creaked open again, and the other two boys in the dorm poked their heads through. Both of them were both peering confusingly into the bathroom, their hair sticking up in all directions. Dean was wearing his West Ham United pyjamas, while Seamus had a dressing gown haphazardly thrown over his shoulders.

'Ron… are you…'

Neville bit down on his lip again, looking flustered and worried. Deciding that the blond boy probably didn't want the whole dorm to know, Ron thought fast.

'Just showing Neville a new trick that my brothers taught me. Saves time when shaving, you see.'

'O-oh, right.'

There was a pause. Then⸺

'Can… can you show us too?'

The penny finally dropped. Seamus and Dean hadn't been taught the charm either.

Ron swallowed. He didn't have much, growing up. His clothes were never brand-new, and he rarely got anything that hadn't been owned by at least one other person. But maybe having so many older brothers wasn't such a bad thing in times like this.

'Sure.' Ron said, as Dean and Seamus joined them at the mirrors. 'The more the merrier.'


End file.
